Friday Nights
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caryl AU. Oneshot. Friday nights meant something different to everyone. For Daryl, though, they were always the best night of the week, even if they didn't turn out exactly as planned.


**AN: Here we go. This one was just for fun.**

 **I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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Quitting time on Friday meant different things to different people. For instance, to Daryl's brother, Merle, and half the assholes that Daryl even knew, it meant cashing in the check for a little fun. It meant down to one of the three local bars where a hangover could be bought at a bargain price. It meant that buying a hangover for someone else might also buy you a night in the arms of a woman who wasn't half as pretty the next day as you thought you remembered her being, and it meant buying an awkward Saturday morning for yourself.

Of course, without that vision for Friday, Daryl's vision for Friday would never happen. For Daryl, Friday was a very different thing. It meant dropping his check in the bank—because he didn't need cash money on hand too often—and then it meant running down to Sugg's store to get supplies before Sugg clocked out and closed the store early.

A twelve pack of beer—because Merle would drink it if he came in too early—a bag of chips, a couple of candy bars, and a pack of smokes. For Daryl, those were the necessary ingredients to a good Friday. Then, as soon as all that was purchased and shoved in the floorboard of his truck, it was time to take a quick drive down to the little hole in the wall store that J.R. ran to pick a movie selection off the three bookshelves worth of films that J.R. stocked. Though Daryl could have made the purchase of his provisions there, he never did because J.R. wasn't too good about ordering in new supplies and, really far too often, in the past Daryl had gotten ahold of a candy bar that he was pretty sure had come over to America on the Mayflower.

The weekend was the only time that Daryl got the house to himself. Since Merle had moved in with him, at least five years ago, with the promise that he'd be out in a month? Daryl's home hadn't really been his private single wide palace. Merle was company, but he was loud company and he was bossy. He picked what was on television, he picked the movies, and he even picked the meals. Daryl could assert that he wanted something different, but he'd just be badgered into backing down, so he didn't even bother.

But when Merle was at the bar, Daryl was free to do what the hell he pleased and he didn't have to hear anybody's mouth about it.

J.R.' s place was hopping—at least for J.R.'s place. There were seven cars in the parking lot when Daryl drove up and he hoped that more than half of them were there just to get the hotdogs that J.R. sold and not to have a look at the movie selections. There was nowhere else in town to rent a single damn thing and Daryl wasn't a fan of spending four dollars just to sit in a movie theater to watch something. He'd rather wait and watch it in the comfort of his own home—where the snacks weren't overpriced to ten or fifteen times their worth. The result of it all, though, meant that sometimes pickings were slim if you got there too late to have a go at something good. Daryl, because of getting off work just a little too late or dallying too long at Sugg's, had seen some pretty shitty films ten or fifteen times a piece.

The bell on the door rang Daryl's entrance into the dirty little establishment and J.R.'s wife—manning the weenie roasting, no doubt—barked out a greeting to Daryl that he quickly returned. In line at the counter were three of the people who belonged to the cars that were parked outside, but others were looking around at the bookshelves loaded down with movies while a couple burrowed through the box beside it that held the "new finds" that J.R. hadn't even gotten on the shelves yet.

There was one movie that Daryl wanted to see and he'd wanted to see it for at least three weeks. He'd looked it over at least twice when he'd noticed it about a month ago—a new find for J.R. but not new by any stretch of the imagination—and he'd cursed himself a few times for putting it back that day. He'd gotten something else instead that hadn't turned out good at all, and now he knew it was because he'd simply made the wrong choice. The problem was that it was apparently a decent movie because now it was gone every time he got to the shelves.

Daryl walked with determination toward the shelf where he knew it should be located. He glanced around quickly, making sure that he really knew no one in there and that they didn't know him, and then he closed in on the bookshelf. It was the most popular. Two other people were already standing there perusing the titles. Two women, no less, but that was probably owing to the fact that the stupid movie that Daryl wanted to see was a romantic comedy.

He had to watch it on Friday. Otherwise? Merle was never going to let him live that shit down if he saw it in the house.

Daryl figured that he if he could spot the movie, he could simply reach right over the women that were somewhat blocking the shelves and grab it for himself. If it wasn't there? He could just pretend he'd walked up to the wrong shelf and excuse himself to go and settle for something else for another week.

As he reached the shelf, though, one of the women turned and looked at him. He froze for a moment, not entirely sure what his plan was at this point, and then he offered her the customary head nod to acknowledge her presence and to, without actually having to do so, greet her politely. She gave him a full head to toe inspection and then stepped away like she was startled.

He was dirty. It was Friday and he'd been in the shop all day. He'd done his best to knock off most of the mess before he ever got into his truck, but he was more than certain he didn't look like a painted flower. If he went home and showered first, though, then he'd miss Sugg's even being open and the only movie he'd be able to get his hands on was going to be something like Bambi—and the sequel, not the good one.

He snorted to himself out of feigned amusement at the woman who walked away like she thought he'd assault her right there in the middle of J.R.'s. He didn't give a shit what she thought about him—even if he really did—and he was just happy to see that his movie wasn't in her bony ass paw while she walked away.

He turned back to the shelf where the other woman was reading the back of a movie case and hadn't even noticed his approach. Maybe she'd noticed him and she just didn't care. Regardless, she hadn't gone hopping off like Sandra Dee had.

Daryl looked over her and around her, but she didn't move. He scanned the shelf and was just about to give up entirely on the movie when he realized that she was holding it in her hand. The one she was reading was the one that he wanted. Daryl swallowed. It took everything in him not to be the asshole that he wanted to be and simply reach over and snatch it out of her hand. In his mind, he did just that at least three times. In reality, though, he just stood awkwardly to the side and stared at her in the hope that she would decide it didn't seem like her kind of movie and she'd put the damn thing back on the shelf and pick something else.

She seemed to take forever to read a two paragraph blurb. She took so long, in fact, that Daryl at least partially considered that she might be illiterate and thought about offering to read it to her. After all, in that case he could make the movie sound absolutely horrible and it might ease her decision to leave it behind and move along to something else.

His staring, though, must have finally worked because she slowly extended her hand and started to return the movie to the shelf while already looking ahead for something else to read next. Daryl meant to wait until she'd moved entirely, but he got ahead of himself with his anxious feeling and reached out, grabbing the movie before she'd fully moved her hand away from it.

That seemed like the first moment that she really became aware of his presence, because as he pulled the movie back, she looked at him with her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide with surprise.

"I—was going to get that," she said.

"No you weren't," Daryl said without being able to stop himself. "You was putting it back."

He wanted to kick himself immediately. She looked well reprimanded and he even a little upset by his tone of voice. He felt embarrassed, ridiculous, and like an asshole all at once. He prided himself on having more manners than his brother, but in a matter of ten or twenty seconds he'd proved that was all a lie. If he had manners? He'd have simply handed it back to her and apologized for snatching it in the first place.

 _But he really wanted the damn movie and if she'd wanted it that bad, she'd have never put it back on the shelf._

Basically he was asking her not to hesitate in her selection like he'd done when he'd come to get it the first time.

"I was just—looking," the woman said. She looked at the move in his hand and then she looked at him. Damn it if she didn't _smirk_ at him. "But I can see you—really want to see it so...I'll just find something else."

Daryl swallowed. His mouth felt dry at the moment. She was pretty. She was the kind of pretty woman that would never have a conversation with him if it wasn't about something like this. She would only talk to him out of necessity. She'd only talk to him with a _reason_. Otherwise? A woman like her would do much like the other woman had done and walk away. And she was smirking at him over the movie. For a moment, just a moment, he considered making up some bogus story about renting the movie for his girlfriend. He considered a well-constructed lie about how she really wanted to see it and he'd promised it to her and it was some kind of special date or whatever the hell it was that he would be expected to do if he was setting up some romantic movie date with a fictional woman.

But he didn't bother with the lie. He didn't have to. Before he could even figure out where he might begin with it, the redhead had walked off and was already looking at one of the other shelves to make a selection out of what was there.

Daryl looked at the movie in his hands and he sighed. He was an asshole. That was the simple fact of the matter. He could sit on his high horse and pretend he was better than Merle because he didn't do the shit he did for the same reasons that Merle did them—but he was still an asshole. The reason, in the end, really didn't matter all that much.

Resigned, Daryl walked over and tapped the redhead on the shoulder. She looked at him, this time not quite as surprised as she'd looked before, and Daryl offered her the movie.

"Here," he said. "It's—uh—it's alright. I got like—twenty movies I wanna see. You take it."

She took the movie out of his hand and Daryl walked off in the opposite direction toward the action flicks and Westerns. The last thing he wanted was one of those movies—mostly owing to the fact he'd seen them all at least twice—but he wanted to look at her even less than he wanted to repeat one of them and that was the only shelf where he could fully escape her and keep his back to her while he made his selection.

She walked close to him only to check out and Daryl focused his attention on deciding between the John Wayne and Arnold Schwarzenegger. He jumped when he felt pressure on his arm and he turned his head, not expecting to find her standing there with a plastic bag hanging on her arm from where she'd just been rung up.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"What?" Daryl asked.

She smiled softly.

"Your name," she said. "What's—your name? You do have one?"

Daryl scoffed at her.

"Of course I gotta name," he said. "Daryl."

"Carol," she said.

Daryl hummed his disinterest.

"You really wanted to see that movie?" Carol asked.

"It don't matter," Daryl said. "Really. Go watch the damn thing. I don't care. There's a hundred movies here. I'll just—get it next week."

She made a noise. It sounded a little like amusement. It prickled at the back of Daryl's neck right now. He couldn't figure out why he hadn't managed to shake her off yet, but he was doing his best to ignore her and feign interest in the backs of the two movies that he'd already seen.

"You know," she said, "I was just going to go home and watch it. Stay in tonight. I've got a couple of hot dogs. If you—wanted to come...to watch the movie, of course...I think it might be alright."

Daryl looked at her and furrowed his brow.

"You askin' me to come to your house?" He asked.

She jumped a little and blanched. Maybe she hadn't really thought about the invitation that she'd extended. Or maybe she hadn't thought he'd respond at all. Suddenly she looked a little nauseous about it.

"Just to watch the movie," she said, her voice dropping to just above a whisper and almost having a tremoring sound to it.

Daryl stopped himself from jumping at the invitation.

"Just got off work," he said. "Ain't even showered."

She still didn't budge. She stood there for a moment and just rocked on her feet. Daryl glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He could almost see the gears in her head turning. She hummed out a long sound that meant nothing before she finally decided on what she might say.

"I've got water too," she said. "If you want...or...I could wait a bit? You could come over later? Or—I could—go to your place?"

Daryl looked at her and he couldn't keep from smiling to himself. She looked like she was having difficulty breathing and she was moments from either passing out right there in the floor or bolting out of the store at full tilt. Still, he had to give her kudos because he'd have never had the balls to extend such an invitation to anyone else—especially not to her.

He wasn't even certain he had the balls to accept the invitation. But then leaving her hanging would most assuredly ruin her evening—whether or not she won the prize with the best movie for the night.

Daryl cleared his throat and returned the two movies in his hands to the shelves that he got them from. He turned his body, now, to face her and actually engage in the conversation instead of making her feel like she was imposing on him. He felt his face burn hot just at considering the invitation and he couldn't even imagine what was going in her head or what was making her look like she was just barely holding back whatever reaction her body wanted to have over what she'd done.

"What you prefer?" Daryl asked. "My place or—yours? 'Cause I ain't got a real nice place but..."

She rolled her eyes up almost like she was having a prayer of sorts—thought it would have been an odd sort of prayer Daryl was sure. And the she sucked in a breath that she let out slowly.

"Your place?" She said, her voice only slightly less shaky than before. "I can follow you there. Get things ready while you—you know...shower?"

Daryl smiled, but quickly wiped it off his face. After all, he didn't want her getting the wrong idea and thinking she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life. He did want to see the movie. And, even though he liked the quiet of Friday nights and the loss of his brother's company, that didn't mean that he was necessarily going to be against having her company.

He nodded his head.

"Let's go," he said. "I got some beer. Candy and chips. But—if you wanting anything else..."

"I've got hot dogs," Carol said. "I took a chance—got extra?"

Daryl smiled to himself and waved toward the door, gesturing for her to go first. After all, as they walked toward the parking lot, he didn't want her to see the smile on her face that he wasn't sure he could quite contain.

No matter what, it seemed, Friday night just had a way of being the best night of the week—and this one didn't seem like it was apt to disappoint either.


End file.
